


Polaroid

by starrymarina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Teen Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrymarina/pseuds/starrymarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean comes home late and gets into a fight with his dad. John finds a Polaroid of Dean and his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaroid

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot I wrote for my screenwriting class. I intend on writing more chapters of this fic, but for now this is a preview. myendlessparade is a co-author because she help me come up with some ideas and edited it.

Dean quietly snuck in through the dark kitchen with his backpack slung over his right shoulder. The dull yellow light from the half broken street lamp shone through the window, but it was enough for him to see by.  As Dean shuffled past the table the kitchen lights turned on.  He stood still and looked over at the entrance to the kitchen. His father was standing in the doorway.

“Where were you?” John asked.

“Out,” Dean responded, averting his gaze.

“Did you do it?” John said.

“Do What?” Dean said offhandedly.

John approached Dean. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Dean sighed and his shoulders sunk. “No, I didn’t fix the car.”

“What happened to coming home straight after school?”

“I still don’t understand what the big deal is,” Dean said angrily.

John frowned. “It’s still sitting in the garage waiting to be repaired. Also did you pick up Sammy’s antibiotic?”

Dean widened his eyes and cursed at himself internally. John approached him.

“What’s going on with you lately?” John’s face relaxed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Listen, I’m sorry I forgot Sammy’s medication—” Dean’s pocket buzzed, cutting him off and he put his hand over his pocket.

“Who’s that?” John asked.

“Nobody,” Dean dismissed. He refused to make eye contact and choose to stare at the dull kitchen tiles. John shifted his weight and tried to force his son to look at him, but Dean wouldn’t give in.

“Well clearly they’re somebody important seeing as it’s 11:30 at night.”

“It’s nobody. Would you just drop it?” Dean said heatedly.

Dean frowned and began to walk towards the living room. He gripped the strap of his backpack tight and tried to shoulder his way past John, but he couldn’t get by.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To work on the car,” Dean grumbled, annoyed.

“Forget about the car, I want to know who is texting you,” John leaned against the door jam and lifted his arm to cover the rest of the doorway.

Dean huffed, “Would you please move?” he said as he shoved his way past John.

            “Are you seeing someone?”

Dean’s eyes darted to the floor.

“Dean, answer the question.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Dean said. John grabbed Dean’s backpack.

“Let go!” Dean yelled as he pulled at his backpack, it flew back into him. The zipper was pulled open and some of the contents fell out. Dean noticed a slip of paper and darted for it, hoping to reach it before his father did. John grabbed it and looked down in shock, his face paled. It was a Polaroid of Dean kissing another man.

“Is my son a faggot?” Dean looked down at his feet in shame. He stood in shock as if he had been slapped in the face. “I raised you better than that.”

John ripped the Polaroid in half, the polished pieces of paper drifted to the floor.  He shoved Dean hard against the wall, his head hit it so hard, his vision blurred. His eyes automatically tear up as he gained back his breath.

“Who the hell is he? Tell me, damnit!”

Dean slowly looked up at his father and muttered, “Castiel. You don’t know him, he’s from out of town.”

John’s face reddened. “I will not have some boy-loving sissy under my roof!”

His voice was so intense that he woke Sammy. The nine year old quietly shuffled down the stairs. He rubbed his right eye and made an unsettling hacking coughing noise.

“Daddy, what’s going on?” Sammy asked, and looked at his father who was pinning Dean to the wall.

“Sam, go back to your room. Your brother and I are just having a conversation.”

“It doesn’t sound like a very nice one,” Sammy spoke with concern.

“Damnit Sam!” John yelled. Sam shuttered at his father’s anger.

“Sammy, listen to dad. I promise everything’s okay,” Dean said and faked a smile to his brother. He nodded and headed back to his room. Dean watched Sam until he was out of view.

Dean pushed John off of him and finally made eye contact. “I like men, so what?”

“Are you into dresses now, too?” John said.

Dean began to feel tightness in his chest. “All my life you have pressured me into being man! No I am not into girly shit like that. I love cars and watching football but I’m just not attracted to women.”

John shook his head in frustration. “Where did I go wrong?”

“Dad, as a parent you’re supposed to support my decisions whether you think they’re right or wrong,” Dean said, exasperated.

“You’re no son to me, get out,” John yelled. Dean stood there in shock. “Get out!”

Dean grabbed his backpack and the tattered Polaroid. And then ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He ran through the driveway, quickly becoming out of breath. He reached his Impala and began to drive away from home.

 

 


End file.
